There is a room with six walls
Wooden flooring or ivory, matters not in the least
Chipping paint, towering, an innocuous shade
Cobwebs in the shadows behind the captivating light

A redundant soliloquy
Hurls from the belly of the beast
Atop the melody of the crickets
Blanketed by the darkness of stagnation

A hand reaches out, cups the light in its palm
Perhaps the claws of a lion, perhaps the untrimmed fingers of a child
Silence dims to a uniformity
Thoughts find solace in the irregularity of a dream

The rain does not fall
beyond the room with six walls;

Here, the thunder learns to be.

– “The Room with Six Walls”



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